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Showing posts with the label church music

The Making of a Thai Paschal Troparion

This is the making of a paschal troparion, the hymn “Christ is risen from the dead…”, in the Thai language and from the Thai culture. For obvious reasons—my wife is Thai and the whole family is highly affected by our ties to Thai culture—we have closely watched the progress of the Orthodox Church in Thailand. If there had been a paschal troparion in Thai, we would have been using it in our house years ago. But instead, every year, we bemoan the lack of a Thai troparion and talk about how wonderful it would be to have one. It is a small consolation that we have a Chinese paschal troparion that we love, one that feels Chinese, and thus a little bit closer to our Asian home. And then, a Thai troparion appeared. A few weeks ago, my wife showed me a Facebook post with a Thai paschal troparion, sung by Matushka Ksenia , wife of a Russian priest serving a parish in Thailand. (In that video, he is singing the isan, the drone note, but it is my understanding that she wrote the troparion.) Jus...

The Dangerously Beautiful Sheehan Liturgy

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It was the first use of Benedict Sheehan's new musical setting of the Liturgy of St. John Chrysostom in the context of Divine Liturgy itself. I was asked to come and man a video camera during the liturgy, so I was mostly in photo-work mode. I knew there would be beautiful music surrounding me, but I was primarily focused on my job and was not thinking too much about the music. I remember the moment it happened; it is deeply imprinted in my mind. I was moving from one side of the altar to the other, I think, in an effort to get a different angle. I was close to the High Place, when, WHAM! The music knocked me backwards. The strength...the sharpness...the spear piercing my heart as it pierced the Lamb on the Holy Altar. I literally stumbled backwards. The pain from this musical spear immediately brought forth tears. I was certainly not looking for some emotional musical experience, but Benedict Sheehan's Liturgy pierced through my protective layers, my distraction, my here-and-no...